snatches of rain and sunshine, settling down toward sunset into a steady,
uncomfortable drizzle. A dismal enough wedding-day.

The ceremony was to take place at nine o'clock in the evening, and the
invited guests were numerous. Harrison Park would accommodate them all
royally.

Mr. Linmere was expected out from the city in the six o'clock train, and
as the stopping place was not more than five minutes' walk from the Park,
he had left orders that no carriage need be sent. He would walk up. He
thought he should need the stimulus of the fresh air to carry him through
the fiery ordeal, he said, laughingly.

The long day wore slowly away. The preparations were complete. Mrs.
Weldon in her violet moire-antique and family diamonds, went through the
stately parlors once more to assure herself that everything was _au
fait_.

At five o'clock the task of dressing the bride began. The bridesmaids
were in ecstacies over the finery, and they took almost as much pains in
dressing Margie as they would in dressing themselves for a like occasion.

Margie's cheeks were as white as the robes they put upon her. One of the
girls suggested rouge, but Alexandrine demurred.

"A bride should always be pale," she said. "It looks so interesting,
and gives everyone the idea that she realizes the responsibility she
is taking upon herself--doesn't that veil fall sweetly?"

And then followed a shower of feminine expressions of admiration from the